


starting over

by wozpils



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:20:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23597482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wozpils/pseuds/wozpils
Summary: The final installment to wozpil's JaePil AU on twitter.Read the rest here: https://twitter.com/wozpils/status/1153918901941444608?s=20
Relationships: Kim Wonpil & Park Jaehyung | Jae, Kim Wonpil/Park Jaehyung | Jae
Comments: 7
Kudos: 108





	starting over

Jae was certain.

No, he wasn't.

_Could it really be?_

He paused and replayed the same two frames for what seemed like ten minutes, peering into his phone screen as if looking closer into the digital image would give it new definition and realism, as if the motion blur that covered the frame like an astute mist would magically clear and leave an indubitable photograph.

"It has to be," Jae murmured to himself. It was half past nine and he was still in bed. The moment he woke up that morning, he was still feeling overwhelmed by bitter traces of sadness. The melancholy of the previous night still lingered in the air, Jae could still feel it in his gut, this wretched brew of sadness and sorrow that flooded his heart and inebriated him so much he could still feel it in his body the morning after. He had no energy and no motivation to get up and was convinced that he could stay in bed all day if he wanted to. And he _did_ want to.

He continued to lay stiff in his bed, eyes closed, blanket up to his chest, not wanting to move a muscle, not wanting his calm to break, create a breach in his thoughts, and cause him to replay last night's memory in his head. He stayed in that state for a while until his alarm started ringing. He ignored it at first, telling himself that it would turn off on its own. But after the fifth ring, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand and turned the alarm off.

The initial glare of his phone screen hurt his eyes and he rubbed them with the back of his palm. He squinted his eyes and looked at his lock screen. A bunch of missed calls from Younghyun and Dowoon from last night. A flood of text messages from their group chat. Tweets of congratulations from their fans.  
  
 _And a few direct messages from Pirianist._

Jae immediately sat up and opened that particular notification. There were four messages, the last one sent at around four in the morning.

_"... your music really gave me comfort as much as your words did. So I wanna do the same for you..."_

_"...talk when you're ready..."_

_"... it's currently unlisted so you'll be the only one to hear it..."_

He reread the four messages twice before clicking on the attached link, biting his lower lip in anticipation.

When it opened his heart sank, not into abysmal sadness but into an oasis of comfort and jubilant disbelief.

"He wrote me a song," Jae muttered to himself, an incredulous smile forming on his lips, unable to believe that this boy, who he has confided in for the past weeks, stayed up to unfold his heart and write him a song, in order to mend Jae's.

It was entitled _When You Love Someone_ and the lyrics were as tender as the melodies the piano played. Even more tender and heartfelt was the voice singing along to it.

Jae replayed the song several times, so much that he began to sing along to it with ease. The melody seemed to lift into the air and rid the atmosphere of last night's despondent stupor. It reinvigorated Jae and filled his heart with the tender affection he longed for as he slept. And as he listened to the simple song he could not help but think of the musician behind it.

As Jae slept to escape the bitterness of his thoughts, Wonpil had been up, writing, composing, playing his piano, unaware and indifferent to the rest of the sleeping world.

It made Jae feel special. No, it made him feel loved, in the simplest and most innocent way. From the very beginning of his friendship with "Pirianist", music was the single thread that connected them to each other. Music was like a language that both of them spoke, with no need for explanations and elaborations.

And music helped them both heal.

The act of defying the need for sleep to write a song in hopes of providing solace to another person, that act itself was a message. What was it but love making itself known?

Jae sent words of gratitude to "Pirianist", expressing both his disbelief and appreciation. He half-expected the other boy to respond within a few minutes but reminded himself that he probably went to bed a little after four in the morning and it was quite foolish to think he'd be up so early after staying up so late.

Instead of waiting for a reply, he watched the video again, from beginning to end, from the first note played until the last frame, when "Pirianist" turned sideways in his seat, the camera's field of view only showing up to his chest, and reached out with his right hand for the stop button. It amused Jae so much he re-watched the sequence, thinking to himself that "Pirianist" may have been too tired to cut that part out of the video. The thought of him setting up his camera and singing albeit in a softer voice than usual, was so endearing to Jae.

For a split second Wonpil's hand hovered in front of the screen before disappearing behind the camera. The movement was quick and prompt but something nevertheless caught Jae's attention. At the sight of what he thought was a strange marking on the other boy's finger, Jae straightened his back and craned forward to look at the frame more clearly. With swift taps of the screen, he landed on one of two frames that showed the pianist's palm, fingers slightly parted and bent, in attempt to stop the camera's recording.

Jae rubbed his eyes and peered into the unfocused frame once more, tracing the smudged shape created by the black marking on the pianist's ring finger.

At once, it seemed familiar and evoked a recent memory in Jae's mind. The size and placement of the marking, even the crude shape it formed. He had seen it before.

One night, at a frozen yogurt shop, in front of a timid boy whose hand he took in his without notice. He could still feel the awkward air that enveloped them that night and the intrusive thoughts of "Pirianist" that distracted him from directing his full attention to Wonpil, who seemed as dazed as he was.

 _"I got it a year ago. I... just wanted to be able to see my own heart... I wanted to have something that would make me feel alive…”_ Wonpil had explained to Jae shyly.

Jae remembered because he felt touched by Wonpil's reasoning. It seemed poetic and straightforwardly honest at the same time.

He brought his attention back to the present, staring intently into the frame, hoping against hope that it would sharpen and reveal what he wanted to make certain.

 _Was this Wonpil?_ It must be. It was the same tattoo, indelibly drawn on the same finger of the same hand.

 _If it really is him, then that means_ _Wonpil is Pirianist?_

Jae raced through these questions and one by one, the answers unfolded before him.

"Pirianist.... Wonpil.... Agh, crap." Jae said to himself, realizing that the pseudonym was a play on the boy's name. He put his fingers to his temple and gritted his teeth, half in frustration and half in incredulity of how the most obvious of clues was right under his nose but he still hadn't noticed.

Jae raced to send a message to Wonpil and as he waited for a reply, his mind leafed through the events of the past weeks. He began to reevaluate his interactions with Wonpil and the awkwardness that always seemed to accompany them. Now, in light of this development, the awkward and shy nature he often associated with the latter revealed itself to be the desperate attempt to conceal a secret.

 _He probably thought that the less he spoke, the less he would risk slipping up,_ Jae thought to himself.

He got up from his bed and paced restlessly around his room, waiting in desperation for a reply. His head was muddled with thoughts about Wonpil and all the conversations that had ensued between him and "Pirianist". Jae could not help but chuckle, once again in disbelief, at the pieced-together notion that he was speaking to Wonpil all this time, that the funny coincidences between the two were not coincidences at all. _They both liked Pouring for the same reasons_ , Jae recalled. But more than that, Wonpil's poetic yet straightforward -- or perhaps poetically straightforward -- manner of speaking always seemed to bleed through his anonymous persona and find its way into his conversations with Jae as "Pirianist".

Wonpil, who understood things with an impressive degree of empathy even when most people would rather explain them away in mundane and unexciting ways. Wonpil, whose wisdom was not so much a product of experience or matured reason, but rather a product of his good nature and kind heart. Wonpil, who couldn't even look Jae in the eye on their first date but always knew what to say to make Jae feel better.

Above all, like a secret path revealing itself in the jungle of his thoughts, what this shed light on was the curious affinity that Jae felt with "Pirianist". He had always felt connected to "Pirianist", for reasons he could not comprehend. Now that he held the reasons in his palm as he paced anxiously from one end of his room to another, he felt even deeply connected to Wonpil. Not "Pirianist". Not the anonymous persona, but the boy he always knew was there.

Jae could feel his palms start to sweat and he sat down once he felt his knee buckle ever so slightly. Fifteen minutes and still no reply. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, once again reassuring himself that he could not be mistaken, that all of this made sense.

He hit the call button next to Wonpil's name and the phone began to ring.

Jae, restless and flurried, waited with impatience. "Pick up. Please." At the fifth ring, he thought that maybe Wonpil found out that _he_ found out, and that maybe that was why he wasn't responding to any of Jae's messages. But as he turned that possibility over, the call was answered.

"Hello?" Jae's voice cracked slightly and he cleared his throat.

"Jae?" An unfamiliar voice responded.

"Who is this?" Jae asked with a sense of urgency that seemed to startle the other person on the line.

"Uh, this is Sungjin, Wonpil's roommate. He left his phone at the apartment. Is there something you need to tell him?"

Jae heaved a sigh. Half of him was relieved that he wouldn't have to ask Wonpil then and there, for he still didn't know what to say. But the other half of him was in dire need of confirmation. "Do you know where I can find him?"

"Yeah, he has a shift at the cafe right now because h--"

"Thank you," Jae put the phone down promptly, grabbed his jacket, and raced out of his room. He did not even think twice and he did not need to. His heart was beating fast and all his other faculties seemed to function only to achieve what his racing heart desired: to see Wonpil.

He ran past Younghyun and Dowoon in the living room, both of whom were both equally shocked.

"Jae? What's the matter?" Younghyun asked in a concerned tone.

But it was as if all of Jae's senses were inhibited and all he could hear was his own voice recounting all the realizations he allowed his mind to make moments earlier. Without replying, he reached for the front door and pumped his legs as vigorously as he could in the direction of where his bicycle was parked. With a brisk kick of the foot, he pushed the stand upwards and hopped on the seat with surprising agility.

And without a moment to waste, he pedaled his way to the cafe. To where it all began.

It wasn't much of a distance, and at the speed at which he was going, Jae thought he could make it in five minutes. Part of his attention was fixed on the road and the occasional car that would honk its horn at him, but most of his mind was still busy figuring out what he would say to Wonpil. How he would say it. The thought of seeing Wonpil face to face with the knowledge of who he truly was, filled him with anxious fear. But it also created in him a sense of elation. In those moments, Jae knew, contrary to the anxious fear he felt, he wanted nothing more than to see Wonpil, take his hand in his, feel the heart inked on his ring finger as if it had a true pulse, and wrap him in an embrace.

There would be no need for words, because all had been spoken and sung.

Jae wiped the sweat off his forehead and approached the cafe. He craned his neck to look through the storefront window and true enough, Wonpil was there, in his stead behind the counter, wearing a white collared shirt and a black apron wrapped around his waist, handing over change to a customer. Jae parked his bicycle blindly, his eyes still trained on Wonpil. He could feel his throat start to burn up and his limbs lose strength, both from the nervousness and from having to pedal all this way at lightning speed.

Jae approached the entrance and held the the door handle. He paused for a moment.

"This is it," he muttered under his breath.

He swung the door open and the chimes made their characteristic ring.

By force of habit, Wonpil called out with a greeting. "Good morning! How can I help--"

Jae and Wonpil's eyes met and both boys felt their breathing hitch.

Wonpil looked at Jae who seemed befuddled and out-of-breath. The intense look in his eyes told Wonpil that he was here for something more serious than a cup of coffee, but he couldn't think of a single conceivable reason for Jae to suddenly appear as he did.

"Jae," Wonpil said, forcing a grin as he wiped his palms on his apron. "What can I do for you?" 

Jae approached the counter at a dramatically slower pace. He was still unsure of what to say and now that he was in front of Wonpil, all his thoughts started to race past him again and he could not help but feel overwhelmed by a flurry of emotions that were difficult, if not impossible, to put into place.

"Wonpil," Jae finally said, still slightly out of breath, "can we talk?"

Wonpil, who was still struggling to make sense of the situation, gave a curt nod. "Sure, what is it?"

Jae looked around. Besides him, there were only two other customers in the cafe on that chilly Sunday morning and he knew it was not going to get busier any time soon. "Do you mind if we talk in private?"

Wonpil blinked in response. A pit had begun to open up in his stomach and a feeling of unease crawled its way up to his chest. The solemnity of Jae's voice, the intense glare in his eyes, his subtle panting. Everything indicated a sense of urgency in whatever it was that Jae wanted to speak to him about. And whichever way Wonpil tried to flip the situation, he still could not think of a reason for Jae's sudden appearance.

He bit his lip in uncertainty but thought it best, given Jae's demeanor, to concede. Sundays weren't as busy as the rest of the week so he had a few moments to spare. Wonpil nodded slowly. "Sure... uh... this way."

He left his post at the counter and led Jae to a small room out back which they use to keep their stuff. The room was bright and big enough for the two of them to lean on opposite walls, two feet apart from each other. The only furnishings were a computer to one corner -- for the manager's use -- and a locker for the employee's belongings.

Regardless, to Wonpil, who was becoming increasingly anxious, and to Jae, who still fumbled in his mind for the words to say, the room seemed oppressively small.

Wonpil took a breath and clasped his hands together. "What was it you wanted to tell me?"

Silence.

Jae's breathing had returned to normal by then, but his heart continued to pound heavily inside his ribcage. He ran his fingers through his hair and bit his lip as he prepared himself for whatever words his heart chose to speak.

" _I want to cry for you, I_ _want to hurt instead of you,_ " Jae began to sing the song the other boy wrote him, unconfident in his decision to do so but he continued on. " _I don’t want any scars in your heart e_ _ver again."_ He looked into Wonpil's brown eyes and at first, thought that he must have been mistaken, because the latter did not seem to understand what he was trying to say.  
  
But in truth Wonpil, _was_ taken aback and if it were possible for his body to melt into the wall he was leaning against and escape the situation, he would do it. He was left stupefied, hearing Jae sing the song he wrote a few hours ago, before dawn broke through. _Why is he singing this to me?_ Wonpil asked himself, unsure whether his confusion bled through his appearance.

Jae continued to sing, hands in his pockets, partly because he did not know what else to say. Wonpil remained silent and he began to fear that he made a terrible mistake.

"Jae, I don't understand," Wonpil said after Jae finished singing the chorus. It was a half-truth. Wonpil understood that Jae figured out that he was "Pirianist". Why else would he have raced to the cafe, with an adamant look in his eyes, and sing Wonpil a song he never intended for anyone but Jae to hear? But what he could not understand was the manner in which he had done it.

"I know," Jae simply said. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "I know, Wonpil." The flurry of emotions that ravaged his heart like a whirlwind only moments ago began to calm down after he sang the song for Wonpil. In an almost ineffable way, the lyrics to the song were the exact things he wanted to tell Wonpil. No more, no less.

Wonpil knew what Jae meant and if his face told a story of confusion, it was only because he was at a loss for words. He feared that this moment would come, having someone find out that he was the person behind "Pirianist". Even the possibility of someone figuring it out filled him with absolute dread. But now that the moment was here, he did not know what to do or what to say. And he felt not dread nor fear.

Wonpil looked at the taller boy standing across him, leaning against the wall with knees slightly bent so that the two were the same height. Jae had a soft smile on his face, and it bemused Wonpil as much as it comforted him. It was a terribly conflicting situation for him. On one hand, he was awfully petrified at the realization that someone had finally figured out his secret identity. On the other, it was _Jae_ who had found out; and who was he but someone who had practically served as a repository for all of Wonpil's heartaches and pains, someone who reciprocated equally and intimately by unraveling his heart just as much. In truth, it did not matter that he was doing it beneath a veil of anonymity, because to Wonpil -- and to Jae as well -- their conversations were nothing but a series of honest confessions.

Jae did not peel his eyes off Wonpil but the latter had not said a word. "Wonpil, it's okay. In fact, it's more than okay. A-and, I won't tell anyone." Jae took a step forward. 

"Jae," Wonpil held his right hand up, palm outwards, so that his tattoo was visible. "How? Have you always known? I'm... I... I don't understand."

Jae looked at the other boy's raised hand and without warning, took it in his. Wonpil flinched. "I saw your tattoo," Jae explained. "Wonpil, I'm sorry."

He let go of Wonpil's hand and took a step back. "I can only imagine how you must have felt when I turned you down. I understand now. It must be hard carrying a secret like that at the back of your head all the time. After talking to you for days on end, I learned that you are so much more than what you let on and I was stupid to turn you down like that. But I guess I'm lucky because I still got to know you anyway. And I have had the pleasure of getting to know you in the most unconventional, the most insane, but also in the purest way. You know what's crazy? I got to know you for who you truly were, without attaching your name or face to it, and I still fell madly in love with you. When I found out, everything just started to make sense... I don't think you ever lied about who you were. In fact, I think you were being bravely honest."

Wonpil listened to Jae's confession and pursed his lips. Deep inside, a ball of euphoria formed in his core and he could feel his heart beat rapidly. No words escaped his lips and he struggled to come up with a response. 

"Wonpil--"

He held his right hand up and placed his thumb on his tattoo. "Do you remember the reason I got this?" He didn't wait for a response but he knew that Jae remembered. "I wanted to see my own heart, a reminder that I was breathing. Living.

"Jae, meeting you and getting to know you, having to hide part of me from you while simultaneously revealing every single vulnerability I had, was the most surreal and stressful and maddeningly exhilarating experience... and if anything reminded me that I was alive and breathing, it had everything to do with you." Wonpil shook his head and allowed a smile to creep into his lips. "Park Jaehyung, if you'll have me, I want to get know you. More. Without secrets. Without an anonymous persona. Not through DMs or subtweets. And if that means having to tell the entire world that I am Pirianist..." Wonpil paused.

Jae held his breath in anticipation.

"... I'll consider doing it," Wonpil said jokingly and the two of them chuckled, reminiscent of the childish banter and innocent laughter they shared over messages.

"You don't have to tell the world you're Pirianist. It's a big decision and I don't wanna be the person who forces you to," Jae said taking yet another step forward. Wonpil followed suit, closing the distance between them slightly.

"I know. But talking to you has taught me that maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all if people knew me a little better."

Another step forward. Wonpil had to crane his neck slightly to look at the taller boy's eyes.

"So where does this leave us?" Jae asked.

Wonpil thought long and hard but the answer was clear and both of them knew it.

"We can always begin again," Wonpil answered.

"Huh, funny you said that, because if my memory doesn't fail me, we're at the place where you almost took my life," Jae said teasingly as he took another step forward.

"You're never going to let that one go, huh?" Wonpil took a step once more and he found himself closer to Jae than he'd ever been.

Jae shook his head. "I don't mind starting over." He planted a tender kiss on Wonpil's forehead and in that moment, he was certain they weren't starting over.

They were simply picking up where they left off.


End file.
